Story Of A Soldier
by lackofmops
Summary: What made Soldier into the killing machine he is today? What really runs through his head when he's not on the battlefield? My take on the American mercenary.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm not a very good writer, to be honest, but I just thought I'd try this idea. Please give constructive criticism. Thank you and enjoy.**

**Midwest, 1930**

"I will not tolerate failure in my household!" The man practically screamed as he showed soldier the back of his fist. "You are worthless." Soldier didn't protest. Because it was true, wasn't it? It wasn't his father's fault that he had failed. It was his fault. He took the beating because _he _deserved it. "Get out of my sight!" The man ordered.

Soldier obeyed. He never disobeyed a direct order. He ran out of the room, making sure his father didn't see the tears falling from his eyes. That was a sign of weakness. And weakness was not tolerated, among other things. He lay down on his bed and began to rest. There was no point in self-pity. After all, he didn't deserve pity. He was worthless. Completely and utterly worthless.

He just couldn't understand how he could be so stupid. His marks were by far the lowest in his class, and he had been held back a few grades. After all, what other 16 year olds still have to attend grade 9 classes? He was so ashamed.

The next day, soldier woke up early and left the house without eating breakfast. His stomach protested on the way to school, but he ordered it to calm down and kept walking. There were about 5 miles of distance between his house and the school, and he wasn't allowed to take the bus. Not that he needed to, he loved running. It was one of his favorite things to do.

Whenever he sensed his dad getting too mad, he went for long runs around the nearby park. When he ran, he felt completely and utterly in control. Being in control made him feel good. Choices of any kind made him feel good, although he didn't want to admit it. He kept running.

**Teufort, 1972**

"Get up, you lazy wastes of space!" He shouted to his team in the morning. He had not yet put on his uniform, and was only wearing his underwear. His voice was sufficiently loud to wake up everyone else in the RED team, much to their dismay. "Will you shut the heck up?" Scout yelled, stepping out of his room. "_Some_ of us are trying to sleep here."

"Are you wearing _underwear?_" Added Spy. "Disgusting."

"You will put your uniform on now and step outside for training. That's a direct order."

"But I haven't even had breakfast yet!"

"You could do with a little less breakfast, you weak flabby piece of-"

"That is IT! Let's see how tough you are with your head bashed in, 'soldier'!"

He grabbed his bat and looked like he was ready to follow through on his threat, when engineer stepped out of his room. "Now hold it there, son." Scout stopped. "Soldier's right. We could all do with a little exercise. Now drop that bat and let's head outside." Scout opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it after a bit of thought. "All right. But don't think this means you can boss me around, you-"

"Scout!" Protested engineer. "Just shut your mouth and get ready."

Pyro emerged from his room and furiously ran up to engineer. "Mmmphm mphpmmm mmph!" He stated indignantly.

"Because, Pyro, I'm not in the mood for a three hour lecture from right now. Just please get your butt in gear and when we get back, I'll cook lunch."

"We are in a period of ceasefire. I have better things to do than go on pointless walks at 6 AM. Goodbye, comrades." Spy cloaked so that Soldier wouldn't follow him.

"I didn't want him to come anyway." Justified Soldier.

**Midwest, 1930**

Soldier didn't have any friends. Maybe it was because he had a tendency to release pent-up anger on anyone who happened to get to close. Maybe it was because he was just too intense. Of course, no one dared bully him. A kid had learned that the hard way when he tried pushing him around and got his leg broken.

His grades weren't good either. He could barely understand what they were saying, and his memory was so terrible that he couldn't pass any test in most subjects. Especially history. He hated history. He just couldn't remember the names and dates of important American events.

The only thing about school that Soldier looked forward to was gym. It gave him a chance to be at the top of his class for once. His strength and stamina were unmatched by any of the other students, because of how hard he had trained. Of course, being two years ahead of everyone else had helped.

**Teufort, 1972**

Before long, the entire team (with the exclusion of the medic, who had "important work" to do) ran through the town of Teufort. They got glares from everyone they walked by. Soldier was oblivious, and when a disgruntled civilian gave him a mock salute, he returned it. "Just doing my part to keep the American spirit alive, ma'am."

"I'm not a woman."

"Sure you are."

They kept running for hours on end. Everyone was miserable except for Pyro and the Demoman, who had popped open a bottle of whiskey. He seemed much more agreeable about the whole thing after the contents of the bottle had disappeared.

They walked by a little kid holding an ice cream cone. Pyro leaned in to the kid, making several innocent noises through his respirator. The kid screamed, ran away, and dropped his ice cream on the ground. Pyro looked like he was going to cry. Perfectly good ice cream, wasted! He dropped to his knees in sorrow.

"That is _it!_" Exclaimed Sniper. "We've been running for two bloody _hours_! I, for one, am about ready to shove Soldier's shovel up a few places I'd rather not mention. We are going home." Pyro whimpered in agreement. Engineer raised an eyebrow at Soldier.

"All right, all right, you sorry excuses for men. We're going back home."

Scout practically skipped back to the base, and Soldier felt satisfied that he had done his team a great service. Although he wouldn't admit it, he felt a sense of camaraderie with his team, a feeling that he had never really experienced before.

Engineer cooked some barbecue ribs (Pyro, of course, enthusiastically helped with the barbecuing) and they were delicious. Best of all, they were 100% American! Nothing tasted better than patriotism.


	2. Chapter 2

**Midwest, 1930**

He looked forward to the day his uncle came over every single day of the year. His uncle was in the army, but did come back to visit from time to time. He was the exact opposite of his brother. He was kind, subtle, quiet, and shy. Soldier loved him.

"I've got a gift for you, little guy." He told Soldier, smiling. He passed him a small red book, wrapped up in brown paper. Soldier hid it in his jacket, and waited until the next night to read it. He had to sneak a flashlight into his bed to be able to see the words.

_Sun Tzu's Art of War._ Soldier didn't know much about war, but he was pretty sure that art and war didn't mix. But he read it for his uncle. It seemed kind of boring at first, but then Soldier saw that there was kind of an art to fighting.

It said that by finding the principles of both army, and the root of why and how they were fighting, it was possible to predict the outcome of any war. His reading was substandard, but he spent all of his spare time reading that book until he finished it.

He promised himself that when his uncle came back, he was going to tell him everything he learned from that book. But one day, his dad saw him reading it. "What's that?" Demanded his dad. "A book? Tell me you didn't steal it!" Soldier opened his mouth to respond, but his dad had already snatched it away.

"It's useless. You'd be better off studying." He tossed the book into their fire. Soldier once again opened his mouth to protest, but his mother put a calming hand on his back. "Ssh…" She calmed. He didn't say a word as his dad retreated to his study.

His mother told him that the reason Soldier's dad hated his brother was because he had always been smarter, and when he got accepted into the army while Soldier's father hadn't, his jealousy had turned into hatred. Soldier promised himself that he would be in the army one day.

He just had to be a soldier. He just had to.

**Teufort, 1972**

When the ceasefire finally ended, no one was more prepared than soldier. His trusty shovel was brought out of storage. His head was protected by his helmet, and his rocket launcher was loaded and ready. He scolded his teammates for putting preparations up to the last minute as they listened to the mission briefing.

Miss Pauling, their mysterious boss's assistant, began to fill them in. "Builders' League United has secured the entirety of the dustbowl area. They have begun to build fortifications, and your mission is to capture it before they are able to complete the defences."

She rolled out a map. "Dustbowl is divided into three areas, each of which has a two central 'points' that you must capture and claim for our company. Now, they will undoubtedly be defended by BLU's own team of mercenaries. Now, the respawn is highly unstable technology. It will return you back to our base and bring you back from the dead as long as it is active."

"The respawn machine is fuelled by Australium, the most valuable element known to man. As such, we don't want to waste it. Reliable Excavation and Demolition has agreed to keep it turned on for fifteen minutes, after which you will stay dead. So if you want to succeed (and get paid) you need to capture it _before_ the time runs out."

Scout butted in. "Yeah, yeah, we've all heard this briefing a thousand times. What _I_ want to know, is how come BLU gets to come back from the dead, too? What's the point in fighting a war where no one ever stays dead?"

Miss Pauling rolled her eyes. "I'm not paid to explain war to under aged mercenaries. _You're _working for _us_, and you're just going to have to get used to it." Scout looked like he was ready to argue, but then it seemed to dawn on him that he was getting nowhere.

"All right." He said. "Let's go kick some butt."


End file.
